Light for the Righteous
by wistful dreamer2
Summary: Francis' thoughts during his coronation.


***Author note below **

The crowd cheered loudly as Francis approached the entrance to the great cathedral. He pulled up on the reigns and dismounted. Bucephalus, Francis' favorite stallion, lived up to his namesake Alexander the Great's own Arabian steed as he pranced around ready to respond to the slightest urging from his master. His dark coat shined in the July sun looking every bit suited to be a king's mount. Francis let his hand rest on his mount's neck for a moment longer than was necessary to calm the energetic horse, hoping to pull from the great horse's strength.

He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself as he turned to meet the clergy processional. "This is it," Francis thought. His eyes following the soaring façade of the Notre-dame Cathedral up to the blue sky, "before God and my subjects, I am about to be crowned the King of France." The responsibility of ruling France already hung as heavily as the ornate robe on his shoulders- dragging him down, ready to trip him up as he strode in what he hoped was a confident manner to the Archbishop of Reims.

"Your Grace," the Archbishop said with a slight bow of his head. Francis returned the nod resolutely, letting the waiting clergy know that he was ready to begin.

The doors of the king entrance were pulled open and the procession to the altar began. The choir broke into song and Francis set his shoulders and stepped into the cathedral. He was ready for this, to lead and serve his country. He had spent his entire life preparing for this day. If only it hadn't come about this way. If only his father hadn't -

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a gentle touch to his elbow; he turned to meet the sparkling eyes of his wife, Mary, Queen of Scots and now Queen of France. She gently and lovingly squeezed his hand. He was not alone, together they would rule and decide what was best for France and Scotland for their people. Despite all their burdens and conflicts they still had each other, God be willing they always would.

They slowly made their way up to the altar, Francis' mind wandered to the last time they had been in the great building. It was a much happier occasion with smiles gracing every attendee's face, but he only saw the breathtaking smile of his beloved wife. How could it have been less than a year since their marriage was so new and unmarred by politics, disagreements, and secrets? Despite all the obstacles and heartache they had endured, they still loved each other and he fervently believed they were on a path to rebuilding trust and unity.

Now that he would be king in his own right, he could offer the support she needed for her country. He would no longer be limited by his position. A soft sigh of relief left his lips, Mary looked up at him. Her eyebrows knitting together silently asking if he was okay. He responded with a soft smile, trying to convey the depth of his love for her in his eyes. How foolish he had been when they first met to think he would be stronger, a better leader, apart from her? Nothing could be further from the truth, he knew it logically as well as in his heart, together they were stronger.

Before they were ready, they reached the altar and the procession stopped. Mary ran her hand over his lower arm and Francis lightly tightened his grip on her fingers. She made a move to step away, this was her husband's ceremony as she was already a crown Queen in her own right he would do this alone, but Francis pulled her close and whispering, "_Lumen rectis_." The motto they had picked together for his reign, a challenge to each other to work together for the good of their countries. If they stayed true to their consciences and one another so they would not fall into the dark but live in the light. Mary smiled up at him, in the way she does when she wanted to stretch up to kiss him but protocol wouldn't allow it, her eyes sparkling with joy and hope for the future. The bishop to her right, quietly cleared his throat reminding them that the ceremony was waiting on them, she squeezed his hand one last time and released it and stepping away to take her place near her ladies in waiting.

Letting his eyes travel quickly over the full cathedral, Francis caught a glimpse of his mother, still wearing the black of mourning but still looking every bit as regal as ever. He thought for a moment that he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes but in a blink they were gone, he must have been mistaken. He sent her a discreet smile, which she quickly responded by giving him a pointed look that demanded he pay attention to the ceremony.

The Archbishop began reciting the bishops' petition for the rights of the Church. Francis responded with his carefully memorized oaths as prompted by the ceremony's order. Each word he took to heart, each promise he meant to fulfill to the best of his ability- to protect his people, to protect and serve the Church, to rule as God intended. He was in awe as he was presented with Charlemagne's sword, its newly polished hilt gleamed in the sunlight and reminded him of his studies of the great ruler who united much of Western Europe. The Archbishop motioned him to kneel; he obeyed and felt the cold of the stone steep into his legs. His mind wandered to the many great rulers who had knelt in the same place before him, his father and his grandfather among them. He had studied their reigns, their policies, their mistakes, and had learned important lessons from each of their lives. They had all started here: kneeling and accepting the anointing from the Archbishop of Reims having their reign blessed before God and their subjects. He fervently prayed that he would be a good leader that he might even be remembered and studied by future sovereigns as a benevolent and wise king.

Standing Francis was adorned with the deep blue royal mantle before being instructed to kneel once again for the blessing of the royal gloves that were then place upon his hands followed by the royal ring. The royal scepter was placed in his right hand and the Hands of Justice into his left. The Archbishop turned to the altar and reverently lifted the Crown of Charlemagne, everyone in the cathedral seemed hold their breaths as the last prayer was said. "God crown thee with a crown of glory," the priest recited as he laid the crown upon Francis' head.

The weight of the crown, both literally and figuratively, caused Francis to brace himself against it. He was now the sovereign ruler of France, with no one to answer to but God. Such an enormous responsibility given to him simply because he had been born to his father. He was determined to earn the people's respect as much as his birthright demanded.

Before he knew it, he was being drawn up and turned around to face the crowd. "May the king live forever!" declared the Archbishop. The people soon took up the cry, filling the cathedral with joyous cheers. Francis sought Mary's eyes. She beamed up at him, full of love and pride for her husband. Francis couldn't help but smile back; today a new chapter of their lives had begun. One he hoped to be full of love, trust and happiness not matter what faced them.

The processional slowly began its way back down the aisle and Mary quickly joined him. Together they would greet their people as King and Queen of France and Scotland.

* * *

**A/N:** I did a lot of research of French coronations and Francis' coronation in particular but much of it fell by the wayside for creative purposes. It is a fascinating (and rather long) ceremony and I really enjoyed all the information and details I found, if are interested you should check it out sometime!

_Lemun Rectis_ is one of King Francis II's mottos selected upon his ascent to the throne; it translates to Light for the righteous, which is how the title for this piece was chosen.

Also, many thanks to my beta reader **Callie Cat** for editing and making suggestions, you are simply wonderful!

I don't own any of the marvelous characters of Reign.


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